


we're not broken, just bent

by tommythetommo



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27852330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommythetommo/pseuds/tommythetommo
Summary: There's a new maid in Downton. Thomas befriends her. Jimmy's inteligence gets questioned. Ends on a dandy Christmas Eve.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	we're not broken, just bent

**Author's Note:**

> I had virtually no idea where this was going until it was done. It also wasn't supposed to be this long. But anyway, here's Jimmy being an overall himbo for you, hope you enjoy!

A new maid arrived at Downton. She came in on the second week of October introducing herself as Amy and working through her chores with efficiency and a certain air that almost made it feel as though she enjoyed it. Throughout her first weeks at the abbey, the staff warmed to her charm and her sense of humour and soon enough she had befriended most of them. Jimmy was oddly struck by her. She didn’t look a day over twenty, but she wasn’t attractive, rather moved and sometimes talked like a man, which she camouflaged well with big, sheepish smiles and sparkling eyes, so people weren’t too shocked by it. There was nothing feminine about her. Except her hips. Jimmy felt curious, in a way. She wasn’t too interesting, but she talked loudly and laughed even louder which served as a nice contrast to the rest of his co-workers. He didn’t speak much with her, just kept an eye out trying to figure her out.

One afternoon he tried to gossip about her with Thomas, only to learn that the under-butler had paid her no mind and hardly even remembered her name, even after eight days of her working there. She spent a lot of time in the kitchen and, after a few eavesdropping sessions, Jimmy learnt that in the confidence of just one or two people, she had quite the potty mouth. It made Daisy giggle in awe, probably because she’d never met a woman quite this bold. In all honesty, Jimmy hadn’t either.

The first proper conversation he had with her was the single most outrageous one of Jimmy’s entire life, but something told him the same couldn’t be said for her. Anna was looking for her and Jimmy found her rushing up the stairs. She dismissed him when he told her to go back down, so he allowed himself to be harsher, see how far he could go with her. He insisted and advised her to hurry up, bitterly and a bit smug. To which she replied that she needed to go to her room and change because she had just gotten her _period_. She held his gaze defiantly while Jimmy went through the seven stages of grief.

He rushed to tell Thomas as soon as he could but quickly realised he couldn’t talk about it without repeating her words, so he decided against it. It took three days for that interaction to leave his mind. When it did, it was only because Thomas crossed the hall in his new grey suit as he left Downton on his day off, and it fitted him so well that it looked tailor made. Then it took three hours for that image to leave his mind. It was definitely because Jimmy had a decent appreciation for fashion, of course.

Later that day Jimmy overheard Amy doing an impression of Mr Carson when he wasn’t around and decided that she wasn’t so bad after all.

Then there was one instance in which both her and Thomas were required to go into town together to run errands, for reasons that escaped Jimmy. As he crossed paths with Thomas on the way out, he warned him to be wary of her, but the under-butler didn’t seem to catch it, too preoccupied with time management issues, cursing under his breath about inoperative hall boys and nonsensical, overweight butlers.

A few hours passed and each time Jimmy walked through the hallway, he eyed the door willing them to come back. He wasn’t sure what had him so obsessed, but his fixation became justified when, after yet another two hours, they strutted in. Each one of them balancing a big box on one hand and an _ice lolly_ in the other. And they were laughing. Thomas was laughing. Open, throaty chuckles and a big smile and Jimmy was too busy being alarmed to notice the swarm of butterflies doing gymnastic in his stomach. Amy was laughing too, but to hell with her.

Throughout the next few weeks, to Jimmy’s horror, Thomas and Amy appeared to become rather close friends. Or as close to that as Thomas would go with anyone aside from Jimmy. He took pride in knowing full well he was Thomas’ only friend. But he caught them _playing_ one evening in the servants’ hall. As in, Thomas Barrow actually enjoying himself and the company of a female above the age of three. Jimmy didn’t catch the name of the game but the under butler seemed far more involved than any time the two of them played cards. Jimmy took offense to this.

The second time he caught them was a mellow weekend where half the family was in London and only Lord Grantham had stayed, leaving them with big breaks and little chores. When he found them in the hall, a half hour before their supper, he spoke before he could stop himself.

“What’re you doin’?” He boldly interrupted, looking pointedly at Thomas.

Thomas and Amy looked up, the latter curiously and the former a bit more annoyed.

“Playing.” He stated the obvious while Amy smiled.

“What is it?” Jimmy half asked, half mumbled. He also pointed to the table nonchalantly, holding back a frown. He felt clownish but he wasn’t sure why.

Thomas looked down at his sheet of paper on the table and back up at him.

‘‘We have to write a word for each category with a different initial each round.” Amy answered, in his stead. “It’s really fun.” Why did she have to smile all the time?

“’S a bit brainy, ain’t it?” Jimmy mocked, scoffing, and actually frowning this time, still looking just at Thomas.

“It’s why I never play it with you.” He countered. _Rude_

“I thought you didn’t play with me because you didn’t like taking breaks from looking like a constipated buffoon.” Jimmy snapped.

They’d banter like this before, but maybe this time it escalated a bit quicker than usual.

“For someone who likes their own reflection so much, you’d think you’d be more self-aware.” Thomas mused.

“What d’ya mean?”

Thomas stared at him as if contemplating whether to say the next thing or not. He made up his mind quite fast.

“You always look like you haven’t shat in three years.” He shot, deadpan.

Jimmy was shocked speechless for a few seconds before he opened his mouth and just as he began to speak, he knew Thomas had guessed exactly what he was about to say.

“ _Really_? Did I look like that the night that you-”

“Shut up, this instant.” He interrupted. His eyes were closed but Jimmy knew to read his frustration as mild fear, so he didn’t finish his thought.

“You can’t tell me to shut up.” He protested and almost stuck his tongue out, before remembering he wasn’t a toddler.

“Somebody has to.”

Amy, who had refrained from commenting but was staring entertained, chose that moment to speak.

“You bicker like a married couple.”

This made Thomas sit straighter and Jimmy finally look directly at her.

“We aren’t.” He said, as seriously as he could muster and bordering on threatening.

Amy gave him a blank stare.

“No, I know.”

“Why’d ya say that, then?” Jimmy pressed, shifting in place. And was that Thomas rolling his eyes out of the corner of his eyes?

“I was just joking.” Amy looked confused.

“But we aren’t together. We’re men.”

“Yes, I know, that’s why it’s a joke.” Maybe this girl was permanently amused.

Jimmy felt Thomas looking warily at him, so he resorted back to mumbling.

“’S not very funny.” Most eloquent _._

“Not my best work.” Amy replied, quietly and a bit ironic, still slightly offput by Jimmy’s reaction.

Thomas had watched the curt interaction like a ping pong match and sighed in relief when Jimmy turned away, satisfied with Amy’s response. Densest man he’d ever come across, that one.

He lit a cigarette as his eyes followed Jimmy leaving the room. Except Jimmy didn’t leave, he just rounded the table and sat himself next to Thomas.

“Can I have one?” He motioned to the cigarette and Thomas gave him one, together with the matches.

“So, Jimmy,” Amy started conversationally. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Jimmy gave her an odd look as he shook the match to put it out, cigarette now dangling from his lips.

“Are you going to spend your day off with a lucky girl from the village?” She finished.

And at that, Jimmy perked up.

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

He didn’t see how it was any of her business. Apart from that horrible encounter on the stairs, this is the most the two of them had willingly remained in the same room. But he hadn’t had a chance to tell Thomas about this yet, so he decided now was as good a time as any.

“Met her in the pub on Wednesday.” He told Thomas, who offered him a pair of raised eyebrows and a complicit smirk.

Jimmy’s most selfish side was expecting perhaps some ounce of jealousy or resentment, but he swiftly brushed the disappointment away.

“She’s staying at the Grantham Arms until Monday, so we might go back there for some fish and chips or something.” He explained, forcing an air of mystery.

“Really? The Grantham Arms?” Amy asked, sounding a bit unsure.

“Yeah, she offered. Why?”

“Oh, nothing.” She played coy. “Just… rumour has it the chips are bad, but the mattresses are really good.” She said, suggestively.

“Is that so?” Jimmy said around a cloud of smoke, sitting taller in his chair. He liked were the conversation was going. This, he could do. At Amy’s small ‘mhm’ he asked,

“And where did you hear these rumours?”

“Oh, I started them.” She giggled and Jimmy had to laugh. He turned to Thomas in disbelief, but he was smirking, looking down at the ashtray as he tapped his cigarette.

“Well, I can confirm them.” Thomas said, his voice low and suave, but there was a faint blush high on his cheeks.

Amy laughed louder as Jimmy gaped, but before he could dig deeper, Mrs Patmore announced dinner was ready and Ivy came in to set the table.

* * *

Jimmy did meet the girl in the pub. No fish or chips were eaten, the conversation was terrible, but the rest was pleasant. It was unlikely they’d meet again though, but Jimmy wasn’t allowing himself to think about the reason why.

He arrived at the abbey well after everyone had gone to bed, so all the lights were out except the one in the hall. Because, of course, Amy was there.

“Hello, Jimmy.” She looked up from her sowing to smile at him.

“Hullo.” He took off his cap but didn’t sit down. “Where’s Thomas?”

“Oh, he went up a few minutes ago. I should be up too, just had to finish this.”

“Ah.”

“How was it?”

“Fine. Won’t be discussing that with you, though. Have a good night.’’ He said politely but with finality and started towards the stairs.

“No, wait, entertain me while I sow, come on.” She insisted enthusiastically.

“Oh, you don’t wanna hear it.” He said dismissively, hoping to be right.

“Sure I do. Was she nice? Did you have deep, meaningful conversations?” She teased.

Jimmy really didn’t want to be having this chat. He enjoyed bragging about his dates with his mates (not that he had many mates, Thomas was it for the time being) but he wasn’t about to sit down with a random girl and start offering all the nasty details. Girls don’t like those kinds of stories.

He took a deep breath.

“Well, let’s see. I did go deep, just not into a conversation. She was nice, seemed to agree a lot with me. And I’m sorry to say you were wrong: the mattress was too thin and too squeaky for my taste. Left my back a bit sore.” He said, rolling his neck for emphasis.

There, that ought to teach her not to ask about things she didn’t want to hear. Jimmy stood smugly while Amy processed his words.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“So, it was you on your back? On your first date? Seems a bit rude, don’t it?” She continued sowing.

_What?_

“What?” He blurted.

“Did she enjoy it, at least?”

This was not happening. Girls didn’t hold this type of conversations. Did they?

“Of course she did.” He answered, only because he felt like he needed to. What was happening?

“And did she finish?”

“Pardon me?”

“Did she finish?” She looked up at him.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” He had no idea what she meant.

“You were… testing the mattress.” She paused to make sure he was following. “She was agreeing with you, you were deep into a _non_ -conversation…”

“Yes, yes, alright.” He shook his head.

“And then you finished.” She rose her eyebrows. Jimmy was about to faint.

“Yes.” He answered dubiously.

“So, did she?”

“Like… it finished, yes.” Jimmy huffed out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and sat down, far from her but close enough to lower his voice. Were they really talking like this? Inside Downton Abbey? On the servants’ hall?

“No, but like, did _she_?” She pressed, her eyes wide as though encouraging him to understand.

“What are you on about?” He was developing a headache, but he didn’t feel like he could go to bed without finishing the conversation.

“Jimmy,” She took a deep breath and continued talking like she was dealing with a child. “you start, it builds and then you finish. Did you make sure she did as well?”

She was looking at him expectantly. What was she expecting?

“Are you… women can do that?” Was she having him on?

“Jimmy, oh my God.” She rolled her eyes.

“Shut up, are you serious?” He slammed his hand on his table without making too much noise and leaned forward.

“Jimmy how many women have you been with?” She was far too calm.

Was this common knowledge? God, if he’d known she was like this he would’ve never said anything. He should’ve just gone to bed.

“I’m not telling you that.” _Because it’ll put me to shame._

“For the love of God, was it more than two?”

Jimmy scoffed.

“Maybe.”

“Oh my, those poor girls.” She sighed.

_Oh my, those poor girls._

“Well how does it- I mean do they…” He was looking around the room for the end to his sentence.

“It’s just like yours.” She explained.

Jimmy stared.

“Although it can happen multiple times.”

“Shut up.” _Where is all this information? Is there a book?_

Amy was smirking.

“How does it happen?” He had to know. She seemed to have answers.

He could finish this talk and offer his resignation tomorrow, then he could leave and never see her face again. He could easily get a job in York, surely. Or London. Or New York. 

“The same way that it does for you. During the same _non_ -conversation.” She said, her hands moving expertly across the dress she was still sowing.

Jimmy cleared his throat.

“But you have to make sure she’s enjoying it.” She went on.

Jimmy felt his vision blur and realized his eyes had probably gone hazy. He blinked rapidly and used the pause in conversation to catch his breath.

_God, she really doesn’t mind talking about these things. Does she do it often? The conversation, obviously. What about the other stuff?_

“Hands work too.” She added, quietly. Jimmy nearly gasped when he understood her meaning. He cleared his throat again, instead. He kept blinking.

“And mouth.”

“Jesus.” His voice came out raspier than he’d intended.

“You could start there, next time.” She offered.

“Right.”

“When will you see her again?”

“Oh, I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?”

“She reminded me too much of someone.” He admitted.

“Oh?”

“Yeah- I don’t…It felt wrong.” He coughed to stop himself from elaborating. “Anyway, you seem to know a lot about this.”

“For someone who’s never done it, perhaps.” She giggled.

“You’ve never been with a man?” This was perhaps the most surprising piece of information he had received tonight.

“No.” She cut the thread with her teeth.

“A woman?” He added on a whisper, because at this point, he’d heard too much to be put off.

That made her properly laugh. “No.”

“So how do you-” _How do you know more about it than me_ is what he really wanted to ask.

“You read about it.” She shrugged.

“You read about it.” He scoffed. “Hang on, what was that about the mattresses, then?”

“I was just pulling your leg. The chips really are bad, though.”

“But Thomas agreed.”

“What did I agree with?” Thomas appeared from the hallway, making Amy look up and Jimmy jump in his chair, his mind still miles away.

“What are you doing here?” Jimmy asked, turning around to look at him.

“Came down for a glass of water.” Only then Jimmy clocked the glass in his hand. “What did I agree with?”

“That the beds on Grantham Arms are good.” Amy answered.

Jimmy was actually hoping Thomas wouldn’t get involved on the previous conversation. In fact, if he had to remove someone from that constructive little chat, it’d be himself.

“Ah. What is it, Jimmy? Did you get confirmation tonight?”

There was that bitterness Jimmy was looking for yesterday. Sometimes Thomas had to be a bit sleep deprived to show his real emotions.

“Oh, Jimmy got a lot of things tonight.” Amy teased as she stood up and stretched the dress before her, checking her work and looking for other faults.

“God, keep it to yourself, will you?” Jimmy scolded, turning back to look at her.

“Well, you have to tell me now.” Thomas ordered as he approached the table and sat down next to Jimmy, setting his glass down.

“Actually, I think I’ll go up now. Had a really long day.” Jimmy said around a tight lipped smile. He pushed his chair back while Thomas’ eyes followed his moves and stood to leave.

“Jimmy didn’t know women could orgasm.”

Jimmy fell right back on his chair, his legs ceasing to hold his body up at once. Thomas simply raised his eyebrows and bit back a smile, his gaze traveling from Amy to Jimmy.

_Was he used to this kind of talk from her? Or from anyone?_

“Jesus. It takes a lot to make you blush, don’t it?” Jimmy told her, horrified out of his mind and even more embarrassed.

Amy just winked from behind the dress she was still holding up.

“You didn’t know? What a clod.” Thomas judged him, lighting a cigarette. He really didn’t go anywhere without those.

“Right. And you did?” Jimmy shot, cocky and on the defensive.

“Of course I did.” Thomas stated as though it was obvious and took a drag. He exhaled around a grin.

“How do you know, then?” Jimmy asked, suspicious.

“I’ve been around.”

“No, you haven’t.” _Not with women._

Thomas held a smug stare.

_Surely not with women._

“Had to make sure.” He smoked again. God, he loved the theatrics.

Jimmy’s mind was going a million miles an hour. There was a picture that never entered his head. Thomas with women. What would he be like? Different than with a man? Surely. Better than Jimmy? Most likely, after tonight’s revelations. _Why_ were these questions Jimmy wanted to answer? And didn’t he mind Amy hearing that? _Had to make sure_. Did he tell her about his preferences?

“And?” Jimmy asked with childlike curiosity.

“I didn’t like it but at least she did.”

Jimmy confirmed the smug expression was permanently imprinted on his face.

* * *

Jimmy didn’t quit his job and it wasn’t awkward because they were all so busy they barely had time to see each other and feel embarrassed.

Occasionally the three of them would stay after dinner and play some game or other as everyone went up for the night, leaving Alfred baffled at how obviously they preferred her company over his. Jimmy was starting to tolerate Amy, mostly because when they played they barely spoke. But after one Tuesday night she stopped showing face, leaving Thomas and Jimmy to play alone. Jimmy was thankful and only slightly intrigued.

As the winter air properly set in and with December on the horizon, Thomas and Jimmy moved their poker congresses to Thomas’ room, where there were wool blankets, cheap rum and the heat from the fireplace felt warmer than the one in the servants’ hall.

One night, Jimmy managed to get Thomas to teach him that game with the categories and the words and all. It was enjoyable the first few rounds, but it turned out playing with Thomas looked more fun than it actually was.

“Right, what did you write for Names?”

“Oh, I’ve got nothing under Names.”

Thomas looked up from his paper and his stunned face was tinted orange from the light of the fire.

“You couldn’t manage to think of a single name with the letter J?”

“Well, I’m so- _rry_ , you think too fast, I can’t keep up.” He shrugged and his blanket fell off his shoulder.

“It is the literal first category and your name is James. It is also one of the most common initials in England, probably.”

“Well, what did you write?”

“Jehoshaphat.”

“Fuck off.”

“It’s Hebrew.”

“It’s weird.”

And then the letter F proved difficult.

“Any foods?”

“Fruit.”

“Uh, Jimmy, we’ve talked about this. Fruit is a category, you need to be specific.” Thomas said massaging his temple.

“I assume you’ve got some exotic example to beat me with.” Jimmy rolled his eyes.

“Fuqi feipian.”

“I’m not even gonna ask. What about Places?”

“French Guiana.”

“You’re making that up.”

“Jesus, Jimmy, it’s in South America, part of France. How could I make that up?”

“You’ve literally just made that up. Right, I wrote Filey.”

“Filey?”

“Jesus, Thomas, it’s on the east coast, part of England.” Jimmy mocked.

The letter S was probably the worst.

“So we’ve got 5 points on Sam because we both wrote the same. What did you write in Actions?”

“Stripping.”

“How creative. I wrote singing.”

“You never sing for me.” Jimmy said as he wrote himself 10 points.

Without thinking, Thomas said, “You never strip for me.”

He dropped his pencil and looked up, aghast, to find Jimmy’s wide eyes staring right back. Before Thomas could apologise, Jimmy burst out laughing.

“I were only joking, I’m so sorry.” Thomas was trying to say, interrupted by Jimmy’s incessant cackling.

This went on for a whole minute until Jimmy calmed down.

“You never asked.” He said on a smirk, lifting his glass to his lips.

“Jesus-” Thomas choked on his own spit. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“Could we play again tomorrow?” Jimmy asked sitting up from his chair.

“It’ll be Christmas before we play this game again.” Thomas said, putting away the pencils and papers.

“Come on, t’was fun.” Jimmy smiled at him.

“You were cursing profusely not two minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but you’re cute when you’re riled up.” He said offhandedly, raising his arms above his head to stretch and yawning. “Right. I’ll be off now.”

Thomas stared as he left the room and closed the door behind him, frozen in place for a good thirty seconds, wondering if he heard right.

* * *

Two weeks after the most revealing conversation Jimmy had even taken part in, curiosity got the better of him. It had been about four days since him and Amy had spoken and another two since they spoke about anything worth talking about.

He didn’t know her enough to miss her company but anyone in this house who could speak about anything other than custards and spices was already an improvement from the regular crowd. And if Jimmy was being honest with himself, he was actually highly entertained by her boldness. He just wished he wasn’t on the receiving end as often.

He approached her as she came down the big stairs, on the hall by the main entrance, with somewhat of an idea.

“Say, Amy.” He stopped her, keeping his voice down.

“Oh, hi, Jimmy.” She smiled. Her voice was light, no hint of her being offended or upset. So, why was she keeping her distance?

“I was wondering,” Jimmy started. “you know how the other night I asked you how you knew all about that and you told me you get it from reading?”

She nodded and Jimmy had to wait for a hall boy to cross the room before continuing.

“Well, is there any material I might borrow? To do some reading myself?”

“You want to read about the things that we talked about?” She asked, amused.

“Only I have a break coming up in about an hour and I’ve ran out of novels to pass the time. Thought I would educate myself further.”

“Hm. Okay, well, I’m actually terribly busy the next hour but if you want you can fetch it yourself.”

“What, from the women’s corridor? Mrs Hughes would have my head.” Jimmy winced.

“No, no, she’s just gone back to her cottage to fetch some thread or other. You’ve got about fifteen minutes, I’d say, if you want.” She shrugged.

Jimmy considered his possibilities and eventually rose to the challenge. It’d been a while since he put his job in danger. He missed it.

“Alright, tell me. How do I get in?”

She quickly instructed him to knock on the hallway door and call for Beth, a kitchen maid who was sick in bed and would most likely let him in because her only ambition in life was male validation. Then she told him her room number, where she kept her books ( _those_ books) and to look for a blue hardcover with purple trimming on top and no visible title on the front.

He quickly did as told and soon enough he was standing in the girl’s personal chambers. He’d imagined it would feel more thrilling, but so far it felt no more exciting than visiting Thomas’ room. Which was weird because one would think being there alone, for the first time, completely unsupervised would feel a tad bit racier than Mr Barrow’s dormitory but oh, well.

He went looking for the blue book and upon a quick search, he noticed two identical ones. He heard Beth ushering him to hurry from outside and quickly grabbed the one closest to his reach.

It wasn’t until he was back in his own room, sat comfortably on his bed, expecting to dive head first into some Easy Manual to the Female Body and Its Pleasures that he properly opened the book and realised he grabbed not the book he’d been searching, but something else entirely, titled The Queer Quest: All There is to Know About Homosexual Relations.

He shut it close and threw it across the bed as though he’d been burned. He waited for it to come to life and bite his head off, but it didn’t. So, before he could really think it through, he grabbed it again and flickered through the pages. Over three hundred pages of indecent paragraphs and some minimalist but _very_ graphic illustrations.

Who had this much to say about sex? Why on earth did Amy have this under her possession? Why on earth was Jimmy absolutely going to read it? Unanswered questions, there were too many.

He finished five chapters in forty-five minutes and only stopped when he realised he had work to do, original book long forgotten.

* * *

All the new-found knowledge lingered in his head for far longer than he’d like to admit. Two days went by before he even considered the consequences of Amy finding out he took the wrong book. Because she eventually would, and he had no excuse for keeping it for so long. He figured he’d have to sneak back into her room and exchange it for the right one, praying she wouldn’t notice.

On a more pressing matter, he still hadn’t fully digested the fact that in those two days he re-read the whole book two times, and chapters five and eleven four times over.

And what is more, from around chapter three and onward, for every detailed example the book provided he started picturing _himself_ with none other than Thomas Barrow. For a full afternoon he convinced himself that was because Thomas was the only person of the sort who Jimmy knew personally. This theory was easily debunked over breakfast the next day, when the sight of Thomas eating sausages was simply too much for Jimmy to witness in such a tight collar. And further refuted when Jimmy went back to the book at night, specifically to picture Thomas in every scenario.

Dealing with one issue at a time, Jimmy went to make the exchange of books, taking advantage of a lucky coincidence that left the girls’ corridor door open and no one on sight to catch him. This meant Amy never had to find out and, at least one part of his problem was solved.

The sexuality crisis was still being handled.

He avoided Alfred’s pressing questions about his health and blamed his ever present blush on the heat coming from the kitchen. He didn’t have to avoid Thomas because the under butler was too busy for a cigarette break so him and Jimmy didn’t speak for the full day. Jimmy spent the day missing both Thomas and the book and feeling far too indecent because of it.

Outside, in the yard, breathing cold air by himself, it occurred to him that maybe he should meet up with some girl, any girl, at a pub as soon as time would allow it. To rid himself of these thoughts and blow off some steam. But then an overwhelming sense of nausea overtook him because he realised at that moment nothing sounded less appealing than meeting up with a girl.

He tried to find some ounce of excitement at the picture of a woman’s body and found none. He remembered his last encounter with a lady, how there was a name on his lips threatening to escape and it wasn’t hers. He’d cried on his way back to Downton, scared out of his mind, cursing his brain for betraying him so, and eager to never think about it again.

Why was it that lately, all these intimate scenarios lead to his best friend? His male, best friend. Who, coincidentally, was in love with him. 

The most obvious conclusion was one he was trying to avoid at all cost. This is not the life he’d imagined for himself. All the shame, the danger, the judgement was not something he was ready to deal with.

He spent service holding trays, serving sauces, and joining the dots on all those tiny untoward emotions he felt for Thomas throughout the course of their friendship. Emotions he’d deemed ridiculous and potentially dangerous, so he swept under the rug without processing. Fat lot of good that did.

But God, Thomas looked good on a livery. Worth going to prison for.

Would Thomas risk it for him? Was Thomas still interested at all?

Out of the corner of his eye, through the cracked door, he saw Amy walking past the next room. And it occurred to him: he could talk to her.

She was the one in possession of the book, she was the one with the wicked words and most un-ladylike behaviour. Surely she wouldn’t be appalled by such an idea. Jimmy Kent and his homosexual tendencies. He wouldn’t be her first acquaintance of the kind.

He did. He talked to her. In the boot room, after supper, with a locked door and a quivering lip. He confessed about taking the wrong book, somehow remembering to apologise in the middle, and what it did to him, the feelings it brought up. Just before he started sobbing, he managed to beg her for help.

She wasn’t surprised in the least, mostly sympathetic, and she went in for a comforting hug that Jimmy didn’t return. She reassured him that Thomas still felt the same and Jimmy didn’t question how she knew that. But he did wonder.

The most surprising thing was when she asked if he wanted to keep the book.

“What?”

“It’s yours if you want it. It wasn’t even mine in the first place, it was given to me.”

“Who would give that book as a gift?” Jimmy frowned.

“Thomas, of course.”

Every conversation with this woman was even more unpredictable than the last. She didn’t seem to see the shocking factor of such a revelation, and she giggled a bit at Jimmy when his jaw hit the floor.

As per usual, their conversation was interrupted by a tired Mrs Hughes knocking the door and ordering them to go to bed.

Jimmy didn’t sleep a wink. The book he’d been reading – worshiping – belonged to Thomas. He had seen and read all the nasty thing that Jimmy had seen and read. Furthermore, he probably willingly purchased it, unlike Jimmy who had it delivered to him by the hands of fate.

Was he thinking of Jimmy while he read it? Oh.

He had to know, didn’t he? There was a conversation to be had.

* * *

There was no conversation the next day. Just a late night game of categories. Amy did wink at him once an hour when they locked eyes, but he ignored her like he ignored most of Mr Carson’s orders.

With only Mrs Baxter to keep them company in the servants’ hall, Jimmy sat next to Thomas with a sickly sweet grin and two sets of pen and paper. Thomas gave him a wary look but didn’t refuse. This was the first time they had some time alone a few long days, even if Mrs Baxter was in the room and Jimmy was actually in the fifth plane of existence.

The first three rounds went mostly smoothly but the fourth one diverted completely.

“Salmon is not a bloody colour, Jimmy, get over yourself.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not a real colour, you can’t use it.”

“Sure it is, a mix of pink and orange. It’s a different colour entirely.”

“It’s not in the wheel of colours, doesn’t count.”

“Oh, right, but bloody _silver_ is?”

“You did this with B as well, bone is not a colour. It’s a part of the human body. Why are you so bad at this game?”

“You wrote Borduche in B! That’s completely made up, so don’t tell _me_ I’m bad at this game.”

“It’s Bordeaux, I explained this to you before, it’s a shade of red and you need to be less ignorant if you want to remain being my friend.”

Jimmy pretended not to hear that.

“I don’t believe a word of it.” He crossed his arms and frowned, much like he did eight minutes ago when they had this exact conversation for the first time.

“I don’t care if you believe me. I wrote it thinking you’d write a more obvious colour like blue or black or burgundy, but evidently you did not.”

“Good night, boys.” Baxter stood and went to leave, smiling to herself when none of them even looked up, too wrapped up in their bickering.

“Now what the fuck is burgundy?”

“Oh, dear me.” Thomas rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’ll let you keep silver if you let me keep salmon.”

“You won’t let me anything, I’ll keep silver because it’s a real colour and you will scratch salmon because you are a noodle.”

“If you let me keep this point I’ll give you a kiss.” _Um, what._

“No, you won’t, so scratch it.” Thomas picked up his pen without a moment’s consideration and wrote himself ten points.

“I will do it, Thomas, come on.” _Will I? Will I really?_

“That would take bravery and we both know you don’t have any, so write it off and we can keep playing.” He dismissed him with a flick of his wrist.

Jimmy leaned forward and caught his lips in a chaste kiss. Thomas froze but involuntarily closed his eyes and stopped breathing altogether.

When Jimmy sat back, his eyes were wide and he looked even more affected than Thomas himself, but he quickly recovered with a cough.

“That’s ten points for me.” _Jesus Christ on a stick, I kissed a bloke._

Thomas took a second to answer.

“No, it’s not, because I never agreed to it.” He said with a blank look.

Jimmy sighed in faux irritation, actually relieved that he didn’t take it the wrong way.

“My god, you are unbendable.” He said while he scratched his word.

“You’ll find that to be completely untrue.” Thomas answered smoothly.

Jimmy locked eyes with him in utter shock and the both of them burst out laughing. A little too late they realised someone could’ve seen them, so they hastily put everything away and called it a night.

Upstairs, Jimmy stopped at Thomas’ door before he could go inside.

“Listen, Thomas, you didn’t mind that I kissed you just then, did you?”

Thomas’ eyes widened and he whipped his head around to make sure no one was there.

“Oh my God, don’t say that here.” He whisper-shouted.

“Okay, but you didn’t mind?” Jimmy couldn’t care less about keeping his voice down. His priorities were elsewhere.

“No, of course I didn’t. But shh.” He motioned with his hand.

“Right, well, because I was thinking we could do it again sometime.” Jimmy’s jaw tightened, both at his sudden state of vulnerability and some pride for having the balls to say that. He was doing it now.

“What? No.” Thomas’ attention was now fully in the conversation at hand.

“Why not?” That’s not the answer he was expecting, quite honestly.

“Jimmy, this isn’t the time nor the place but if you must know you can’t just ask that of me anytime you’re bored. Just go to sleep before you regret what you’re saying.” He patted his stomach to smoothen his livery and forced a polite smile.

_Bored?_

Wordlessly, Thomas turned and disappeared inside his room. It appears Jimmy wasn’t doing anything _now_.

In his own room, Jimmy came to the conclusion that, much like Thomas suggested, he was not brave enough for a conversation as bold as the one he needed to have to make Thomas understand his meaning. The mortification would kill him, and he’d not survive to hear the end of it. He would need a different approach.

The solution came to him in the shape of a big fat Nordic man dressed in red.

* * *

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, Jimmy had had his present wrapped and ready for a full week. His present for Thomas, that is, because he was the only one in this house worth his money or time.

And he’d since come to realise he was in love with him. But it was mostly a money issue, wrapping paper and ribbons costed an awful lot more than he’d anticipated.

The day was far too cold for being outside and Thomas’ injured hand had been acting up, so Jimmy was considerate enough to forgo any illusions of ice skating or spending the evening in a pub, just the two of them. He settled for following him around like his shadow throughout the whole day, while Thomas snuck sweet treats from Mrs Patmore’s kitchen and a single bottle of champagne from the pantry which he knew His Lordship wouldn’t miss. Outside the unlawful mutual attraction, being friends with Thomas had its perks. Plus, it made him feel less ridiculous when it was the two of them walking around in the festive jumpers Mrs Crawley had bought for the downstairs lot.

Present exchange time for them was on the night of Christmas Eve. It was rather unconventional, but this allowed them to have time for themselves and not rush through their gift-giving before running upstairs to serve. It worked best for Jimmy because he couldn’t hold his enthusiasm much longer. Enthusiasm should be read as edge of a nervous breakdown.

He purposely chose the two chairs in the hall further from the conglomerate of joyful servants, which painted an accurate picture of the two of them, in the same room as everyone else, but slightly separated in their own little bubble.

“Alright, Jimmy, here you go. Happy Christmas.” Thomas said on a light tone and a sweet smile loaded with unspoken sentiment as he offered him his gift. Jimmy nearly wept.

He opened the small rectangular box and inside found the most gorgeous watch he ever laid eyes on. It was definitely not expensive, probably not unique, and evidently quite old, but it felt precious as he held it, and the mere fact that it was a gift from Thomas made it priceless in his eyes. He looked up at Thomas and just stared for a few beats, unable to voice his gratitude. He felt undeserving of such a thoughtful touch.

“Fuck, I feel silly now.” He told him.

“What? Why?” Thomas breathed out a chuckle.

“Well… I have a different kind of gift for you.” He said, blushing and looking away.

He reached back to his jacket, carelessly tossed on the table all wrapped around his gift.

With an awkward cough he handed it to Thomas, who took it with a frown and a dubious smile.

“Is it a book? What’s so different about a book?” He asked while he tore off the decorative paper package. His face immediately changed when he uncovered the book and recognised its colours.

He silently looked up at Jimmy and with shy movements, opened the book to eye the first few pages. As soon as he got confirmation, he slammed it shut and hid it in his own jacket.

“Where did you get this?” Thomas asked lowly, a bouquet of negative emotions flashing through his eyes.

“My gift to you this Christmas,” Jimmy leaned forward in his chair, in an act of false bravado, to rest his arms on his knees. “is to re-enact chapters five and eleven with you.”

His cinnamon tinted breath hanged in the air, mixing with Thomas’ cologne, which he could smell from this close. For fifteen seconds, Thomas held eye contact with him while the voices and sounds of everyone else faded to the background. Jimmy could practically see the gears turning in his head. Finally, he spoke curtly.

“Outside, now.”

Outside turned out to be 35% love confessions and 65% snogging. Jimmy imagined it’d be harder to explain, but Thomas was far more receptive than he gave him credit for.

He’d also been wrong in thinking it would take a few days for them to even consider going along with Jimmy’s gift _._ Actually, one desperate explanation and a few wet kisses was all the warmup any of them needed. Perhaps too quickly for their own safety, they rushed upstairs, book in hand, and locked the door to Jimmy’s room with a wooden chair. Jimmy also suggested using a spare blanket to cover the gap underneath the door, for sound proofing. He’d never been this attentive in his life.

Inside, they indeed recreated chapter five with minor complications involving flexibility issues and some newfound insecurities, and chapter eleven with a bit more expertise, although less stamina. Jimmy learned that Thomas was not, in fact, unbendable.

During the aftermath, panting while laying on his back which was overlapping with Thomas’ chest, Jimmy realised something rather humorous.

“D’you know? Amy taught me all sorts of things I will never put to use.”

“I would laugh, but I think I’d hyperventilate.” Thomas sighed.

Jimmy sniggered and snuggled closer, turning to breath into his neck.

“Did you know she thinks you are jealous of her?” Thomas asked the ceiling.

“What?” Jimmy sat up slightly.

“She started hanging out with Daisy more because she thought you didn’t like to share me, she said. Although I also think she was trying to distract poor Daisy from that ginger bean pole.”

“That’s bullshit, I do not like to share you!” He whined.

Thomas just looked up at him and smirked.

“No, I mean- I don’t _not_ like to share you. Or… you’re not- I… whatever.” He sighed and dropped back down. Thomas caressed his arm and placed a kiss on his head, sending a shiver down his spine. He added, after a few seconds,

“Yeah, no, she’s right. I absolutely hated her.”

They laughed and quickly worked their way through the motions of chapter four before everyone else started going up for the night.

It was a bendy, sticky, and loving Christmas Eve night. The best of their lives so far.


End file.
